


i know i'll wither

by moralityism



Series: Sympathetic Deceit Week [6]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Insomnia, Panic Attacks, title from "crystals" by of monsters and men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 13:26:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17044568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moralityism/pseuds/moralityism
Summary: Anxiety and Deceit, before and after Accepting Anxiety. Written for Sympathetic Deceit Week: Anxceit Day.





	i know i'll wither

**Author's Note:**

> When I wrote this I thought Deceit had a full-length cape, and I like the idea of a cape-hug too much to change it, so just pretend he had one before everybody's outfit changed.

Deceit sits in one of the few shared rooms of Thomas’ mind, this one long since claimed by the Sides that Logic, Creativity, and Morality had shunted aside. It’s certainly not uncomfortable — a large couch, a coffee table, by all accounts a decent mockery of Thomas’ living room. It’s quiet as well, vacant of all but Deceit himself. All the lights are completely off with the exception of the table lamp next to him. He reads by its dim glow, sitting cross-legged on one end of the couch. Although outward appearances suggest he is perfectly relaxed, his occasional glances at the clock on the wall show otherwise.

Out of nowhere, Anxiety slams in with a frustrated huff, making a beeline for the kitchen without sparing Deceit a glance. As he passes he flicks the light on, and Deceit jumps, squinting in the brightness. “Don’t read in the dark,” Anxiety chastises. “It’s bad for your eyes.”

“Yes, mother,” Deceit drones obediently, turning a page.

Anxiety rolls his eyes. “I don’t remember having such an ugly kid,” he shoots back.

“Oh, dear. Going senile already? Perhaps we should see someone about that.”

Anxiety throws one of the decorative fruits on the counter at him, and he laughs.

Anxiety returns moments later, giving Deceit barely enough time to lift his book over his head before flopping onto the couch across his lap, small jar in one hand and spoon in the other.

“Breaking out the Crofter’s, hm?” Deceit observes, returning to reading as best he can with a surly Side sprawled in his lap. “That meeting must have gone even better than I had thought.”

Anxiety rolls his eyes. “You have no idea.” He takes a vengeful stab into the jar of jam. There’s a few moments of quiet while he eats his way through half the jar, each scoop a bit less violent than the last. Finally, around a mouthful, Anxiety asks, “So what are you reading?”

Deceit glances at him. “It’s just something I picked up a while back.”

Anxiety shifts further up on the arm of the couch and, setting the jam jar aside, moves the book’s cover into view.  _Liespotting_. “Again with the lying books?” he exclaims. “Dee, you’re obsessing. This can’t be good for you.”

“Ah, yes,” Deceit drawls without looking up, “because repeatedly going upstairs and trying to reason with the  _Light Sides_  is obviously doing wonders for your mental health.” “Light Sides” is said with an unbridled contempt that forces a snicker out of Anxiety even as he huffs at being called out.

“Somebody’s gotta do it,” he grumbles. “If I left it up to those three, Thomas would end up dead, or worse.”

“Worse?”

“Humiliated. Publicly.”

“Ah.” Deceit turns a page, contemplating this. “Although it’s not as though they listen to you anyway,” he points out.

“They never listen!” Anxiety agrees, finally scooting to a sitting position on the couch and out of Deceit’s lap. “Especially Creativity! He just calls me names and ignores me!”

“Roman takes everything as a personal attack on his character,” Deceit notes, turning a page. “He’s remarkably easy to please, though. A few quick compliments and he’ll do whatever you say.”

Anxiety is silent, and when Deceit looks up, he’s staring at him with an eyebrow raised. “Don’t be weird,” Anxiety says.

Deceit clears his throat, finally setting the book aside. “My apologies. In any case, I wouldn’t expect you to sink as low as feeding our favorite prince‘s ego to make him comply.”

“That’s your job, right?” Anxiety pokes Deceit’s arm and Deceit rolls his eyes. “I just wish they’d take me seriously, you know? Especially this time.”

_Ah, there it is_. “Would you like to discuss it with me?”

“I just…he’s never put himself out there that much before! He’s basically laying himself out in front of millions of people! And it’s live, so if something goes wrong, everyone will know.”

Anxiety’s breath quickens, but Deceit stays silent. Last time he had tried to interfere in one of Anxiety’s episodes, Anxiety had snapped at him and accused him of trying to be manipulative. He’d apologized for it later, but Deceit learned that day that their trust did not exist when he was in a true panic.

“What if he messes up? Or, or what if he says something wrong and they all start to hate him? What if people start to think he’s obnoxious or selfish or letting his fame get to his head? And his friends stop talking to him so they don’t attract hate too?” His breathing gets ever-quicker as he steams straight into the panic attack he’d been holding back.

Deceit slips off the couch to kneel in front of him, facing him directly. “Breathe,” he whispers. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Just breathe.” Trying to keep his own movements calm, he starts tapping a 4-7-8 rhythm on Anxiety’s knees.

“I-I…”

“You’re alright,” he repeats. “Listen to this…” He launches into a (completely made up) mundane tale about his misadventures trying to make lunch, saying whatever comes to mind while keeping up the tapped rhythm. It’s intended more as background noise than an actual story, and if Anxiety decides to ask about it later he won’t be able to answer. However, since he knows Anxiety is focused mostly on the sound of his voice, he doesn’t worry about contradicting himself until he hears the other’s breathing slow to a more normal pace.

Anxiety wordlessly slips off the couch and onto the floor, right into Deceit’s lap. He wraps his arms around Deceit’s neck and starts to cry, face buried in Deceit’s neck.

Deceit’s eyes soften and he shifts his position to give Anxiety more space, pushing the table as far back as he’s able. It’s not a particularly comfortable position; he’s right up against the table, and the edge is pressing into his back. If it’ll calm Anxiety, though, he’s willing to put up with it. He grasps the ends of his cloak and wraps Anxiety in a hug, cocooning him as he sobs.

Later Anxiety will calm down again, and Deceit will make hot chocolate, and they’ll sit on the couch and diss the other Sides to their hearts’ content. But for now there’s tears, and warmth, and a deep quiet that settles over the both of them like a blanket.

* * *

Deceit has no idea why that memory in particular is coming to mind now, so many months later. It’s the middle of the night, and he has better things to be doing than laying here and moping about the feeling of  ~~Anxiety~~   ~~Virgil~~  the traitor in his arms and the pain of the table stabbing into his back.

Like, for example, sleeping.

He stares up at his ceiling. It’s almost four in the morning, and all he can think about is how cold he is. Apparently sleep is out of his reach for the night.

Resigned to his fate, he appears in the living room, wondering if any of the others are still awake. The title screen of some Disney movie is on the television screen, playing a repetitive melody as it glows in the darkness. He lets it cover the sound of his footsteps as he slithers downstairs, trying not to be caught by a wayward Side.

There’s no one to catch him, though. They’re all asleep on the couch.  ~~Anxiety~~  Virgil is leaning on Patton, and has both arms wrapped around one of his like a teddy bear. Roman is draped across Virgil, and has half-pulled Logan into his lap. Judging by the awkward positioning, though, this seems to have happened in his sleep.  _He’ll be embarrassed about that in the morning._

Deceit stares at them for a moment. He had intended to just pass them by and possibly raid their kitchen for snacks, but…

Anxiety looks more at peace than Deceit has seen him in a long time, and his chest tightens. Evidently, he still has a soft spot for the Side that used to be his best friend.

_How irritating._

He conjures a blanket and drapes it over the family on the couch. Next, he sets to finding the TV remote. The title screen music is really getting on his nerves.

Something shifts behind him, and when he turns around, Patton is fully awake and watching him. He jumps and nearly curses aloud, but manages to stay quiet.

Patton pats the spot next to him, on the other side of Virgil, with a smile on his face.

Deceit glares at him and turns off the TV, leaving the room lit only by soft moonlight. He can’t see Patton’s face in the darkness, only the reflection of light off of his glasses.

Deceit supposes that’s a good thing. It means Patton can’t see the grief spreading across his expression as he sinks back out.


End file.
